


Anything for that Smile

by aw_writing_no



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky is still an Avenger, Deaf Clint Barton, M/M, nurse!Clint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-25 21:19:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17732861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aw_writing_no/pseuds/aw_writing_no
Summary: Bucky hates going to medical, until he doesn't.





	Anything for that Smile

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kangofu_CB](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kangofu_CB/gifts).



> Kangfu-cb mentioned having an icky day, so I wrote her a HOH nurse!Clint AU. For funsies. Not beta-ed, get at me if you see mistakes please!

Bucky didn’t understand why he had to go to medical every time he got a scratch during a mission.

Steve would roll his eyes and tell him, “Standard Procedure,” which was total bullshit if you asked Bucky. Standard procedure should apply to the regular humans on the team. He was a super soldier, he would heal up fine without being poked and prodded, thank you very much.

Steve ignored his protests and sent him to the medical floor to be assessed. God, he hated medical. All that was going to happen was some timid nurse taking his vitals before scurrying out to get the doctor. Steve always threatened to bench him if he got one more complaint about frightening the nurses with his murder glare. They never did anything for his injuries anyways – they were always healed before anyone saw them.

Bucky stood in the corner of the examination room, scowl firmly in place when the door opened. A man in purple scrubs walked in, eyes glued to the chart in front of him.

“Hi James, I’m Clint. I’m the asshole who drew the short straw and has to deal with you today,” Clint said by way of greeting. He looked up at Bucky and grinned. “Aw, there’s the expression everyone’s been talking about. I don’t know why they find it so scary, you look more like Grumpy Cat than a serial killer.”

“Excuse me?”

“Anyways, why don’t you sit down so we can get started. The faster you cooperate, the faster you can get out of here.”

Bucky cocked his head to the side, contemplating the man in front of him. The purple scrub top was a little tight across his shoulders, the sleeves ending high enough that Bucky could appreciate his seriously impressive biceps. Clint didn’t flinch as Bucky deepened his scowl, just laughed and jerked his chair towards the chair.

“Seriously man, we’re going to be here all day if you keep this shit up. And while I’m not the most patient man, I can easily find ways to amuse myself until you decide to let me look at you,” Clint said.

Bucky held his stare for a moment more, then shrugged and sat down. Clint pulled out a rolling stool from under the counter and sat directly across from Bucky.

“So, what brings you to the medical floor this fine day?” Clint asked.

“I’m here because Steve worries non-stop and needs a ‘professional’ to look at me even though my injuries will be healed by the time I get here,” Bucky replied.

Clint grinned, and _damn_ that was a good look on him. Maybe Bucky should stop being a little shit, because he wanted to see that expression on Clint’s face the whole time he was here. He was pretty sure he could even pull out some of his 1930s charm if it meant getting Clint to smile at him again.

“What injuries did you get this time?”

Bucky shrugged. “Nothing serious. Some bruises, a deep gash on my back, maybe a cracked rib or two.” Clint stared at his lips intently as he talked.

“How long ago were you hurt?”

“A few hours, maybe.”

“Does anything hurt right now?”

Buck opened his mouth to lie, then changed his mind. “The ribs, a bit. And the cut on my back.”

Clint nodded. “How long on average would you say it takes a deep wound to heal?”

“Significant healing in about twelve hours, usually totally normal within two days.”

“Impressive,” Clint said with a little shake of his head. “Okay, let me go ahead and get your vitals, then we can check out your back.” He rolled his stool over to Bucky, unhooking his stethoscope from around his neck and putting the earpieces in.

“Hey, your stethoscope is way more high-tech than the other nurses. You Stark’s favorite or something?”

Clint didn’t reply, just put the flat end of the stethoscope on Bucky’s chest. His brow furrowed as he listened for nearly a full minute, moving the stethoscope in a circle over what Bucky assumed where the different parts of his heart.

“Lean forward so I can listen to your lungs,” Clint instructed.

Bucky complied, then recoiled slightly as Clint pressed the stethoscope against the laceration on his back.

“Sorry! I should have asked where the cut was,” Clint said. “Why don’t you take off your shirt so I can make sure to avoid it. I’ll check out the injury too.” He stood, then began writing down Bucky’s vitals on the chart.

Bucky smirked. “I usually make a guy buy me dinner first.” Clint didn’t even look up from the chart. So much for the 1930s charm.

Bucky stood to pull the shirt over his head, turning so his back was towards Clint. He tried not to jump when the stethoscope pressed against his bare skin, this time avoiding the laceration.

“A little warning would be nice,” Bucky said. “That thing is really cold.”

Clint didn’t bother replying. Damn, this guy was seriously all business.

Clint tapped on Bucky’s shoulder, which he took as instruction to turn around.

“How did you get the scratch?”

“Dragon,” Bucky said casually. Clint was staring at his lips again.

“Where the hell did you encounter a dragon?”

“Some sorcerer made it or summoned it, I don’t know. Wanda explained it but I couldn’t really follow.”

“Ugh, sorcerers,” Clint said, as if he encountered them regularly. “I futzing hate magic.”

“You and me both, pal,” Bucky replied, and yes there was that smile again.

“Okay, I’m going to need to clean that wound out some, maybe put some antiseptic on it. God knows what kind of freaky bacteria dragons have on their claws. That okay?”

“Doesn’t a doctor have to come check it out?”

“Honestly, the doctor told me to get you out of here as fast as possible because – and I’m quoting here – ‘he didn’t want to worry about being melted by your laser eyes.’”

“Rude,” Bucky said.

“But accurate. Anyways, he okayed me to clear you for duty and deal with any minor injuries. I can go grab him if you want?”

“Nah, I trust you.”

“Great. Now hang on a second while I get everything ready.”

Bucky’s eyes following Clint as he began to grab supplies out of some cabinets. How had he not noticed him before? Clint was tall, easily over six feet, and built like an Instagram model. Bucky would definitely have remembered scrub pants stretched across that perfect ass, right? “How long have you been working in the Tower? I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”

“Hang on, I know I’ve got this antibiotic here somewhere.” Clint continued rummaging through the cabinet before flinging opened some drawers. “Aha! Success!” He held up the tube for Bucky to see.

“Okay, now turn around so I can mess with your wound. It will probably sting while I’m first cleaning it.”

Apparently Bucky wasn’t going to get any answers. He shrugged and turned around. He cringed with the first swipe of the anesthetic, mumbling “It’s okay” when Clint apologized.

“This looks pretty good, actually,” Clint said as he began to put on the antibiotic ointment. “That serum is awesome, you can see the tissue starting to fill in.”

“Yeah, it definitely has its perks.”

“I’m pretty much done here, I just need to put a BioGuard over it so you don’t get ointment all over your shirt” Clint said. “I think you’re right about the cracked ribs, there’s some gnarly bruising on your side. Nothing we can do for those though, and you’ll heal up better than us regular humans.”

Bucky waited as Clint opened a package and pressed a large bandage over his back.

“There, done.”

“Thanks, Clint.” Bucky reached for his shirt and put it on before turning to face Clint. Clint was focused on his face again. “So am I cleared to go?”

“Yep, feel free to go tell Mama Steve that your wounds have been tended to,” Clint said.

“He’ll be so proud to know I actually sat still for an appointment and didn’t frighten off another nurse.”

Clint laughed. “You weren’t nearly as much trouble as my coworkers would have me believe. They’re probably going to make me deal with you from now on, James.” Clint bent over to pick up Bucky’s chart, then turned to leave.

“I can think of worse things,” Bucky said. “By the way, my friends call me Bucky.”

Clint waved as he walked out the door. “See you around, James!”

Ouch. Seemed like Clint would be tough to win over. It was a good thing Bucky liked a challenge.

* * *

 Clint was assigned as Bucky’s designated nurse; apparently he was the only one who wasn’t terrified of him.

Bucky stopped complaining about going to medical after that.

* * *

 

The appointments were always the same. Clint would come in with some crappy joke, and listen intently while Bucky was giving his medical history. Bucky seized every opportunity he had to make Clint grin, and was successful the majority of the time. He even managed to make Clint blush occasionally when he licked his lip while Clint watched him talk.

But anytime Bucky tried talk about anything that wasn’t medical, he was totally stonewalled. Bucky couldn’t reconcile Clint ignoring him with the excited, intense look Clint gave him when they were talking face to face. And Clint still called him James, no matter how many times he mentioned it when Clint first came in with his chart or during exams.

Bucky though Clint was just worried about crossing professional lines, even though he was pretty sure no one would actually care. Bucky decided to respect Clint’s boundaries, by finding him outside of the tower sometime to ask him out.

He finally got his chance one afternoon after a coffee date with Natasha. They occasionally liked to meet out of the tower to gossip about the team in Russian. He was walking home when he spotted Clint in the park, wrestling with a large yellow dog.

Bucky smiled and made his way over to the pair. “Hey, Clint!” Bucky winced at how loud he yelled. Real smooth, Barnes.

Clint looked up from his dog and broke into a wide grin when he saw Bucky. “Hey, man! How’s it going? Haven’t seen you in a few weeks.”

“Yeah, Steve reprimanded me for getting injured too often. I guess avoiding medical has been nice; downside is that I don’t get to see your face anymore.” Bucky had to stop himself from fist pumping in victory when Clint’s cheeks flushed red.

The dog came bounding over to Bucky, stopping a few feet in front of him with its tail wagging madly. Bucky knelt down to pet him. “Who’s this guy?”

“This is my dog Lucky,” Clint said. “Lucky, James. James, Lucky.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “I’ve told you at _least_ eight times to call my Bucky.”

Clint frowned. “You have?”

“Just about every time you walk into an exam room and call me James.”

“Oh,” Clint said. His left hand went up to rub the back of his neck. Bucky didn’t think he had ever seen Clint look so unsure of himself.

“Sorry,” Clint said after several moments of silence. “I must not have heard you.”

“Eight times?”

Clint sighed, the hand on the back of his neck tightening slightly. “Yeah, I’m kind of deaf.”

“What?”

“I’m pretty deaf,” Clint said again. He turned to point at purple hearing aids hooked over his ears. “I usually don’t wear these in exam rooms because it’s a pain in the ass to take them in and out eighty times a day so that I can take vitals.”

“Then how do you get accurate histories?” Bucky felt like he should be asking more intelligent questions, but he was still shocked by the revelation that Clint was deaf.

“I read lips,” Clint replied. “I can make out some words, but when I read lips it all comes together. And I usually tell patients they may have to repeat things if I’m not looking at them. The doctors second guessed me a lot at first, but when they realized I was getting all the same information they were, they stopped trying to force me to wear my hearing aids with patients.”

“So your stethoscope is so high tech because you need it to hear? I thought Stark just really like you.”

Clint shrugged. “He did have a pretty good time designing it and updates it about every three months. The quality is amazing though.”

Bucky let his head fall back and sighed. “I feel like a total asshole. I thought you were ignoring me every time I tried to talk about anything besides my injuries.”

Clint gaped. “You’ve been trying to talk to me?”

“For _months_ ,” Bucky replied. “You never mentioned that you might not catch everything I said when you weren’t facing me. I thought you were just a hard-ass about keeping things professional.”

Clint buried his face in his hands. “This is the worst,” he said. “I got so thrown off by how pretty you were that I forgot to tell you.”

“You think I’m pretty?”

“Aw futz,” Clint said, his voice muffled against his hands. “Forget I said that.”

Bucky reached out to pull Clint’s hands away from his face. His metal hand tilted Clint’s face towards him. Clint met his gaze, his face contorted as if he were half expecting a blow.

“I could forget you said that,” Bucky said. Clint’s expression relaxed slightly. “Or I could tell you that the reason I’ve been talking to you non-stop during exams is because I think you’re really damn hot.”

“What?”

“Have you seen your shoulders in those scrubs?” Bucky asked, grinning at the confused looked on Clint’s face. “And your smile? I would literally do anything to see that smile.”

“I like your smile too,” Clint said.

Suddenly Bucky groaned. “Oh God, you were _reading_ my lips the whole time.”

“Well, yeah,” Clint said, his brows drawing together. “I just told you that. It’s the only way I could understand you.”

“No, I mean that’s why you were staring at my lips,” Bucky said. “I was always kind of hoping it was because you wanted to kiss me.”

And even though Bucky had been cataloguing each and every one of Clint’s smiles over the past few months, he had never seen the wide grin that erupted over Clint’s face.

“There’s that smile,” Bucky said softly, reaching out to run his thumb over Clint’s lips. Clint grabbed Bucky’s hand in both of his, and pressed a kiss against his palm.

“It has been torture to watch you speak and try not to imagine how you would taste,” Clint said. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so fixated on somebody’s mouth.”

Bucky’s hand shook his hand out of Clint’s grasp, and pulled him forward into a kiss.

Bucky may have spent the last few months aching to see Clint’s smile, but it felt even better pressed against his lips.

  



End file.
